Seasons in Germany turn on a dime and some of them can pass before you even had a chance to stop and admire it. Others, like that unwanted party guest who just doesn’t want to take the hint and go the fuck home, stick around way longer than wanted, outstaying their welcome. When they’re finally gone, it’s like the whole region shares a big sigh of relief and gleefully slams the door on that chapter, trying as quickly as possible to forget that it ever even was.
Fall / Winter hang around for what feels like forever, co-mingling so tightly that’s hard to even tell when one stops and the other starts. Spring on the other hand is the uncomfortable one who hates to enter the room alone and instead drags Summer along right behind her and bugs out as soon as she’s had a cocktail and it’s clear that all the guys think Summer’s hotter anyway.
Spring was here briefly (and she may still be hiding in the bathroom) but all signs point to Summer climbing on a table and lifting her skirt to steal the show anytime now.
This post is being brought to you by the gimlet in my left hand causing me to hunt and peck with my right. This is probably the reason for the plunge into party metaphors. It is time for celebration.
For one it’s gorgeous outside. Nothing but blue skies, green trees filled with tweeting birds, warm-but-not-yet-sticky-hot (which means the nastier little bugs haven’t hatched yet to fly in through the open windows and die, their corpses adhering to all the light bulbs and overlooked cobwebs) and a soft breeze keeping everything feeling fresh.
Tomorrow is yet another holiday in Bavaria, which means that everyone has taken Friday off as well and the whole region is settling into holiday mode to enjoy an extended weekend. Everyone is smiling at each other and wishing his/her fellow man/woman a ‘nice weekend’ (a level of friendliness which almost never happens in here). Even the cashier at the grocery store and the lady I’ve never seen before in my building’s elevator wished me a Schoenes Wochenende.
The whole city feels the advent of Spring and in the Ubahn today you could witness this shared feeling manifested in the acres of milky white flesh that was daringly laid bare with tank tops, shorts (sometimes too short), skirts and sandals. Thinking that if all of Munich could be shameless enough to bare the pale jiggliness of it all in public I could too, I came home, changed into the sundress freshly bought from H&M, pulled on my new cowboy boots, threw the doors and windows open wide and set up camp on the balcony with my laptop to have a cocktail and stare at my neighbors.
It’s 15 minutes to eight and the sun is still up in the sky and I’m sitting on my balcony, aforementioned drink in hand, waiting for Oliver to get in and join me. The air smells like bbq.
It’s farewell tour time.
On Monday morning the movers come to pack our stuff and us off to Nuernberg.